Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights in the office buzzed with the dull, lifeless hum of a place devoid of joy. Kim Dokja stared blankly at his monitor, fingers idly tapping against the keyboard. He had long since finished his actual work—an uninspired mess of data entry and report reviewing—but pretending to be busy was an essential part of corporate survival. The moment you looked too available, someone would pounce with an extra task, and Kim Dokja was not about to let that happen.
Across the partition, a familiar voice rang out. "Kim Dokja-ssi, have you finished the expense reports for the marketing department?" Yoo Sangah’s voice was as sweet as honey, but Kim Dokja had long since learned to respect the steel beneath it.
"I sent them an hour ago," he said, barely glancing up from his screen.
"Oh? That’s quite fast." Her eyes crinkled in a way that would have fooled a lesser man into thinking she was praising him. "I hope you didn’t make any mistakes."
Kim Dokja sighed, feigning exasperation. "I checked it three times."
"Good!" Yoo Sangah beamed. "Then you won’t mind if I check it again?"
He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. "Knock yourself out."
Despite her terrifying efficiency, Yoo Sangah was one of the few people Kim Dokja actually considered a friend. The job was tolerable only because of people like her. And, of course, the game.
The day dragged on with the usual meaningless small talk, passive-aggressive emails, and the occasional existential crisis. By the time he left the office, the sun had already dipped below the skyline, painting the city in a haze of neon signs and smog. The subway ride home was packed with exhausted workers like him, faces blank, eyes glued to their phones. Kim Dokja blended in perfectly.
His apartment complex looked like it had been scheduled for demolition a decade ago but somehow remained standing through sheer defiance. The walls were cracked, the elevator groaned in protest with every use, and the hallway smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and despair. He unlocked the door to his unit, stepping into the quiet space. Unlike its exterior, the inside was tidy—if only because Kim Dokja had nothing better to do than keep it that way.
He kicked off his shoes, shed his suffocating office attire, and took a long, hot shower. Steam curled against the bathroom mirror as he wiped a hand across his face, exhaling slowly. He dressed in comfortable clothes, microwaved leftovers, and settled into his chair, the familiar glow of his monitor bathing the room in artificial light.
Logging in to Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint was muscle memory by now. He had started as a beta tester for Han Sooyoung, who was still very much involved in both the novel and the game. His character, Demon King of Salvation , was well-established, with decent gear and a reputation in the community. He wasn’t a pro, but he was competent.
The moment he entered the game world, messages from other players scrolled across his screen. Some were looking for party members; others were trading items or arguing about game mechanics. Kim Dokja ignored them and focused on his surroundings, stretching his fingers as he prepared for another night of mindless grinding.
He had always told himself that he wasn’t obsessed with the game, but the sheer number of hours he had sunk into it said otherwise. His ranking wasn’t something he openly bragged about, but the truth was undeniable—he was among the top players. The leaderboards never lied, and Demon King of Salvation had consistently hovered near the top tiers of solo players. He had spent months perfecting movement patterns, reaction timing, and optimal builds, all while maintaining the facade of a casual player.
Then he noticed it. A new player in the starting area.
That in itself wasn’t unusual, but this one was different. Most newbies either fumbled around cluelessly or were guided by experienced players. This one, however, moved with an almost mechanical efficiency. His movements were sharp, precise—too precise.
Kim Dokja squinted at the name. Secretive Plotter .
‘…Alright. Dramatic, but not the worst he’d seen,’ he had thought to himself, not recognising the irony; his name was to the likes of middle schoolers.
Curious, he watched the player dismantle enemy mobs with alarming precision. No wasted movement, no unnecessary attacks. Their strategy was optimised to perfection. A new player shouldn't be this good.
"Great," Kim Dokja muttered. "A bot."
It had to be, right? The Dead Internet Theory had been plaguing his mind lately. Sometimes at work, he would be on the internet; during his break of course, he would never admit to slacking off at work, nuh uh.
Once he saw a post on it, he kept on seeing the topic again and again; his algorithm picked up on it. And then, he slowly began to find himself believing it —how everything online was slowly becoming automated, filled with AI-generated content and fake engagement. How the online world is slowly turning to be a soulless barren, victim to the corporate world schemes without an ounce of authenticity.
This had to be one of those cases. A company-generated player meant to keep the game feeling alive. He wanted to call up Han Sooyoung and scream at her for massacring his favourite game like this, but he realised that it wouldn’t do much help; she just had power over the artistic and intellectual rights over the game, the bots had to be a move from the data science or customer experience department, those snakes.
‘Well, that won’t stop me from complaining to that witch later’, he settled after he was done cursing out those poor strangers.
He couldn’t resist. He sent a message.
[ Demon King of Salvation : hi]
He got ignored, but that was normal. Not that he was saying he was used to getting ignored, but some newbies tend to be closed off; after all, maybe the bot was just designed to be difficult. and he wasn't sure exactly what the bot was here to do anyway. Maybe their sole purpose for existence was to just increase the player count. Sad, really.
[
Demon King of Salvation
: hello]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: new here?]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: are u lost]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: need a guide?]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: why are u ignoring me]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: rude]
The player continued their efficient slaughter, not responding. Kim Dokja, never one to be ignored, started following them around.
[
Demon King of Salvation
: wow okay]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: u must be an introvert]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: or a bot]
Finally, a response came.
[ Secretive Plotter : ?]
Kim Dokja smirked. A bot wouldn’t hesitate that much. Now, all he had to do was test out how advanced the programming for this little bot was.
[ Demon King of Salvation : just checking. u play too well for a beginner]
[ Secretive Plotter : …]
Kim Dokja waited, amused. Maybe it was one of those advanced AI programs designed to simulate human interaction? He leaned back, watching as the player continued cutting through mobs like it was nothing. Still no unnecessary movement, still precise.
[ Demon King of Salvation : so r u a bot or what]
No response.
[
Demon King of Salvation
: im onto u]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: deep web experiment?]
[Demon
King of Salvation
: ur about to sell my data arent u]
Silence.
Kim Dokja grinned, staring at the screen. For the first time in a long while, he felt a genuine spark of curiosity.
But he wasn’t done yet. If Secretive Plotter wasn’t going to talk, he’d just have to be annoying until he did. He wasn't sure exactly how to annoy a bot; like would they even get annoyed? Wouldn't that be bad for humankind? From an evolutionary perspective at least.
Kim Dokja began tailing him, stealing his kills, getting in his way, and spamming messages. Occasionally, Secretive Plotter would pause like he was contemplating murder before continuing on in silence. The more he ignored him, the more Kim Dokja was convinced he was onto something.
[
Demon King of Salvation
: how many CAPTCHAs did u have to solve before logging in]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: 10? 20?]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: beep boop]
[
Demon King of Salvation
: if u were a bot u would have to tell me legally]
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Secretive Plotter stopped moving.
Kim Dokja’s screen flashed with a private message.
[ Secretive Plotter : Shut up.]
He grinned, leaning back in his chair.
Oh, this was going to be fun.